


all the heavens' embroidered cloths

by idontreadheartbeats



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Celestials AU, F/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27252076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontreadheartbeats/pseuds/idontreadheartbeats
Summary: Two nights before the end of the world, they crash together as only two water spirits can in waves of lavish silk. To his mind, the experience is nothing short of sacred.(In a way, he’s right.)
Relationships: Blue Spirit/Painted Lady, Katara/Zuko (Avatar), La/Tui (Avatar), Oma/Shu (Avatar), Raava/Vaatu (Avatar), Sokka/Yue (Avatar)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 70





	1. Creation

I.

_I wish for this night-time_

_To last for a lifetime_

_The darkness around me_

_Shores of a solar sea_

The first time, it happens in a collision of stars and galaxies above the spiritual plane. Him and her, two sides of the same coin, birthed for and by each other.

There is no before, only the ineffable now in the unfolding of their arms and creation.

She is feminine and he is masculine, and together, the two circle one another. They do not stop for fear of what may come. Entropy cares not for the love between beings older than time. And so, they are doomed to dance on, always at arms-length from their divine partner.

Had they birthed the universe within a hair’s breadth, they might have been cosmic lovers. But even gods—their children—negotiate.

(And they’re not due to arrive for another few million years or so.)

In their shared breaths and embrace they define—defy—eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d normally be disinclined to post something so short, and I went back and forth as to whether I should post as a one-shot or a multi-chaptered fic. But given how unusual the idea is, I figured I’d allow some breathing room between the seven vignettes.
> 
> Inspired by elithien’s iconic Zutara art on tumblr.
> 
> Title from my favorite poem, “Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven” by W. B. Yeats.
> 
> Lyrics from “Sleeping Sun” by Nightwish, a Zutara song if there ever was one.


	2. Raava & Vaatu

II.

_Sorrow has a human heart_

_From my god it will depart_

The second time, it ends in harmonic convergence. Somehow, the process of incarnation corrupts his essence.

Before her spirit eyes, he morphs into a cruel and violent being. Were he not her equal in every way, she’d not recognize him, even in spirit form.

Her tears spill over from Wan’s eyes as she imprisons him. Her beloved screams in agony and betrayal from the tree. Had her heart a physical form, she’d nail it there, broken and bleeding for all to see.

It would hurt less that way.

But she is spirit now, trapped on this side of the earthly plane, in a body she no longer wants. None of them understands her heartache.

Not Wan, nor any of the others that follow, and certainly not the girl who breaks her from the ice.


	3. The Blue Spirit & the Painted Lady

III.

_I'd sail before a thousand moons_

_Never finding where to go_

The third time it begins in human form. Having learned from their previous experimental embodiment, they transition fully to the earthly plane.

He is the son of dragons, themselves reincarnations of previous lovers. She, the daughter of peasants, has no reincarnation to speak of—besides her own, of course.

They are both children of Agni, and yet she can barely recall the birth of their sun.

How strange it is to be descended from one’s own children. Reincarnation is funny like that sometimes. Though surely, all in existence were their children once. Had they not birthed the entire universe? With each cycle, it grows harder to remember.

(They dare not consider when memory fails altogether.)

In her tiny little fishing village of Jang Hui, she continues the fight for justice under the light of her precious Tui. Her form is mortal now, veiled in a straw hat and red paint.

Thousands of miles away in the capital of his ruling parents, the crown weighs heavy. He dons the blue and white mask of a demon to do the same and feels lighter than air.

(Though never as light as he did in her arms, if he could remember back that far.)

But he is mortal too and does not know her, nor she, him. In this life, their paths run parallel and never cross. It would’ve been tragic, yes, had their story ended there.

The people of fire venerate them for their actions, and they reunite on the higher plane as spirits of water. With time, they stop short of myth and pass into legend.

(They may be older than time itself, but puerile spirit forms do not a mythos make.)

So later, it is no surprise when the fire prince and the water peasant take up their mantles once more. She tries and fails to relate the message to the girl by spirit form: _Thank you_ , and _it is yours by rightful inheritance_.

From their perch above all creation, they waltz, watch, and wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we’re getting into more of the lore of this AU. Hopefully, it’s not too opaque (that’s the rub of writing something ethereal and arcane).
> 
> Thanks for following along!


	4. Tui & La (Part 1)

IV.

_A moment for the poet's play_

_Until there's nothing left to say_

The fourth time, they are koi with each other upon emerging from the spirit world. She plays the part of the moon, and he, that of the sea. In this form, they recall their eternal dance. Like before, order lasts so long as they do not stop.

And it _will_ stop for a moment if all goes to plan. It usually does.

For they birthed time itself and exist outside its purview. The luxury to prepare for calamity is theirs, and it is a sacrifice they have thousands of years to plan.

In the Oasis, they swim in the blink of a celestial eye, ebb and flow as the years pass by.

So, when the northern princess nearly dies at birth, her previous incarnation is ready to intervene.

The time is right when black hair fades to white.


	5. Cave of Two Lovers (Part 1)

V.

_For my dreams I hold my life_

_For wishes I behold my night_

The fifth time coincides with the fourth, but it is not water they bend, and more’s the pity. Land divides while water unites, and both their villages could do with more of the latter.

They each climb the mountaintops as spirits possessed and perhaps they are. Somehow the view is less satisfying than they both expect; that is, until they see the other.

She in red, and he in blue. One Oma, one Shu.

From their perches, they wonder: will they ever enjoy their lover’s touch on the mortal plane?

To do so, they move earth as they once moved heaven.

The badgermoles recognize them inexplicably—or maybe it’s the other way around. In any case, they make for excellent teachers. And before long, they find each other nightly and lose themselves in the glow of green crystals.

Their love builds a city. But even that tale ends in tragedy.

He’s lost in the war, just when she feels the bump in her belly, and she _mourns_. She can’t tell through the blur of tears and wrenching of earth from her hands if it’s for herself, her lost love, or the fatherless child she will bring into this world. In the end, does it matter?

It’s far from her first pregnancy—across all her iterations—but it’s the first without _him_. At least above creation, he is there to comfort her. But on the earthly plane, she has never felt more alone and only partly understands why.

He has never wanted to hold her so badly.

In another lifetime, the peasant girl travels through their tunnels with her friends and a band of minstrels. Lost in the dark, love burns brightest. She kisses the boy she freed from the ice. It only serves to leave her more confused, for he has yet to tame love's element.

For weeks afterward, she is haunted by ghosts—of a stranger’s absence (though the truth is stranger still) and what can only be described as a kiss from herself. It all seems terribly bizarre. If she were less mortal, it might make more sense.

But she is not, and memory fades with the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of gendered pronoun continuity, this piece assumes Katara was Oma, and Zuko was Shu.


	6. Tui & La (Part 2)

VI.

_Wistful oceans calm and red_

_Ardent caresses laid to rest_

The sixth time coincides equally with the fourth and the seventh, but that’s skipping ahead, and honestly, who’s counting?

In this lifetime, they appear at opposite poles. She, a northern princess, and he, a southern chief’s son. It takes several years and a few encounters with themselves before they reunite.

Once they do, it is brief and heartbreaking amidst the backdrop of another forsaken war.

(Forsaken by whom? Certainly not them, not out of spirit form.)

He volunteers to protect her—because of course he does—and she resigns herself to a marriage she does not want. Is there no world, no plane of existence in all of creation where they can be together and _happy_?

As she will come to find, the answer was always destined to be no, not in this lifetime.

The Admiral slays her in the pool, this poor excuse for a son of Agni—her own son would _never_ —and all goes red: the sky, the moon, her lover’s sight. Her mate merges with her in the body of the Avatar and his justice is swift on a tidal wave.

Mortal hubris is a fickle and dangerous thing.

And when it comes time to revive the moon, she is there once more to take her own place, as sacrifice for her children dictates.

(In spirit form, she'll learn how she birthed all of time and space.)

Her beloved holds her in death's embrace. For the first time, it’s her—not memory—that fades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How could I ever exclude Yukka in a collection of tragic vignettes? Never, I say, never! *shakes fist at the heavens like Zuko on the mountain*
> 
> Only one chapter left, and it’s the main event (if the word-count has anything to say about it).


	7. Cave of Two Lovers (Part 2)

VII.

_The truth at the end of time_

_Losing faith makes a crime_

The seventh time he’s nearly driven mad in his quest to find her, though he knows not the reason why. He _thinks_ he knows why: to regain his honor, his status, his father’s love.

(He dares not wonder if he ever had it to begin with; some questions are best left unanswered.)

What he has forgotten is the fundamental rule: when they descend into the earthly plane, they do so as a bonded pair. There might be many iterations of her in any given moment, but there is only one that belongs to _him_ —to this version of him.

They play a prolonged game of mistaken identity, of cat owl and elephant mouse. She thwarts him at every turn. Ironic really, when it’s not the monk he seeks, but her. An infinitesimal part of him knows this. It’s why, despite himself, he cannot bear to see her come to harm.

So, he tries for charm as he handfasts her to a tree, albeit carefully, roles reversed from a previous scene. He really would save her from the pirates if need be. He's a man of his word with her betrothal necklace as leverage. But she carves her own and nails his heart above it so the bloodstain spells _mother._ He resolves to keep it safe, binds it with his wrist and a promise to cherish her.

(That last part he'd never admit, not even to himself.)

At the Oasis, they are quite literally beside themselves (or versions thereof). He pulls his fire punches and ends the duel at dawn. The words unbidden rise from somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind: _You rise with the moon; I rise with the sun_.

(Little do they know they’ve circled the other since time began.)

For her part, she just can’t seem to let him die, even after she beats him in record time. But she wouldn’t leave anyone out in a blizzard, especially those of unsound mind.

(He challenged a waterbender on a glacier, so that assessment will suffice.)

When they meet again, he nearly loses his uncle to a lightning strike. _Zuko_ , she says, _I can help_. But he’s known too much help that came at too great a price, has never known a healer to conceal their back from sight. Would he deign to trust a peasant from the water tribe?

He chokes out a reluctant _thanks_ , and each departs a little changed.

They next collide and shatter in a cave of green crystal like so many tiny stars. It’s not the first time they birth an entire universe. Blue and green gems pull them together by some gravitational force. This, too, is a pattern crystallized from a lifetime before. They risk jagged corners and sharp edges to offer up mirrored shards of themselves and emerge uncut and maybe a little bit mended.

(As if a healer such as her could do any different.)

But even that tenuous truce fractures. The pull of home is stronger than hers. It all makes sense only after he returns. In the end, it haunts him, and he will make amends if it’s the last thing he does on earth.

It probably _will_ be the last thing he ever does. Shortly before his father kills him. Or his sister. Or Mai. The Avatar’s friends might well kill him on the spot. He could hardly fault them for it.

(And if she killed him as she threatened to, he might just thank her for it.)

But he couldn’t much live with himself if he didn’t at least try. He’s not so foolish as to hope for forgiveness, but he earns it anyway. His fire doubly blinds a girl, and she forgives him the next day. The Avatar’s an air nomad, so forgiveness is in his veins. His wind catches the tribesman’s sails, and he follows the sea change.

Until the last to decide his fate is _her._

But their souls were cut from the same cloth, were struck as two sides of the same coin. He has been on this path before and finds her mother’s killer as but a humble guide.

He’s gotten a lot of practice in that lately: humility, though no one will ever accuse him of being a humble man. He still struggles to bend before anyone but his father, even after his modest banishment. But he watches then, as she stops the rain and _bends a man_ , and his knees buckle in _awe_ for the power of her hands.

Then one night on the island of his childhood he finds her, wading in calf-deep shallows, and she is a _vision_. Moonlight catches on her arms as she weaves in and out of her forms. He can’t be sure, but when it hits just right on the curve of her neck and the sway of her hips, there’s a flash of a long-forgotten water spirit in painted red swirls. As quickly as it appears, it's gone, and she is mortal once more.

His fingers itch to join her with a mask of his own.

Two nights before the end of the world, they crash together as only two water spirits can in waves of lavish silk. To his mind, the experience is nothing short of sacred.

(In a way, he’s right.)

Were it not for her legs anchoring his shoulders in place, he surely would’ve ascended to the astral plane. It is at once new and familiar, though don’t expect him to explain why. Not in this mortal state. Because the heady scent of her in his nose is Sage’s holy incense. She tastes of prayer on his tongue, and he drinks her in like a devout man dying of thirst. He stops before she's sated, much to her disgruntled curse. He laughs, of course, but stills at her eyes brimmed with adoration.

His chest has never felt so full, so fragile, so helpless. His heart bursts with fervent whispers that drip like sacraments from his lips. _Say the word_ , he vows in reverence, _and I will lay my dreams under your feet_. Her response is several cries of _yes_.

At the collision of their hips, he receives divine revelation; gladly worships at her altar, as many times as she ordains. Anything to beatify, to witness that explosion of stars in her eyes, round after blessèd round. His hands bathe her in oblations, adorn her in all the heavens' embroidered cloths—indeed, has already done so a thousand times over.

(In a thousand lifetimes, though he only knows one.)

But he cannot bear to see her come to harm, and she just can’t seem to let him die. So, he flies toward the lightning strike and she fights to save his life.

It’s not the first time they save each other in this life, much less in any of the others. But it is the first time they both _survive_. Of course, they do not know it, and that is for the better.

She smiles down at him as he stirs. Joyous tears anoint her face. Her hair glows in radiant fire, haloed by the comet’s tail with stars interlaced. His chest stings of broken glass, but he can bear it so long as she does not stop.

And she doesn't.

Not when the war is won. Not at his coronation. Not when they are married in the sight of their celestial children. In fact, she only stops to greet each of their mortal children with a kiss. When her own eyes well with her own tears, she thinks nothing of it. Why would she?

In the end, there is no tragedy when she is ripped from Korra’s mortal coil, only relief. For a lifetime spent with a lover is worth more than all eternity.

_Oh, how I wish to go down with the sun_

_Sleeping_

_Weeping_

_With you_

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is, the final vignette (the one we’ve all been waiting for, including our celestial lovers). As you can see, I had a lot of fun playing with imagery in this one. Thanks for following along!
> 
> Stay tuned for the first chapter of my longfic that's been several months in the making. Should appear by the end of the month, with updates once or twice a month to follow (Spirits-willing).


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